Tangents
by Messr. Miss Prongs
Summary: There was nothing special about Jaden Harkness. No one knew she existed for nineteen years, until the eve of her twentyith birthday, when she met two men who would shatter the ground right from under her feet.
1. UnnoticedAndIgnored

Chapter One

Chapter One. **Unnoticed.And.Ignored.**

My name is Jaden Harkness, if you were wondering that is. And there was absolutely nothing special about me at all. Not my name. Not my face. My eyes aren't elegant or shining full of stars. My smile isn't dazzling. I don't have a talent to my name and I most certainly don't have one people know. I was invisible to the world, and for nineteen years, nineteen excruciating years, no one knew I existed. But all of that changed the day I turned twenty. Because on that day, on that dreary, chilling day, I met the two most unlikely people in all the world, in all the gaping universe, the only two people that changed my life- or more realistically, could ever give it back to me. This is the only story I will ever tell. This is the only story worth listening to. This is the story of how I started living.

My mother raised me alone. Her name (and I say was, because she died when I was seventeen) was Adrienne. Adrienne Alistair. We never spoke of why our surnames differ. I suppose she expected my father to appear one day, just as suddenly as he'd left, though I knew for a fact I had never met him. She never even told me who he was. She never spoke of him. Not once, to my memory did she do so. I suppose she thought she was protecting me- After all, any man who leaves a young woman pregnant, never to be seen again, can't be anything but bad news.

My mother was breathtaking to see, I remember that much. After all, why wouldn't I? It wasn't so long ago, not at all. Four years ago.

I remember her like a photograph. She was excruciatingly tall, and had a round, pleasant face that reminded me more of a princess than a mother. I suppose I treated her as such as well. She had brilliant, cascading blonde hair, straight as an arrow, and thick as fog at night. She always tied it back with a scarlet ribbon, giving her a dated, fifties era look, and smelled strongly of menthol and cinnamon. I remember her eyes- Her warm, honey-brown eyes that often rippled with gold- Small wonder anyone couldn't fall in love with them. And she was well-built, but perhaps that was from her age. She had never been with another man to my knowledge, other than the man who sired me, and I believe that was because she was as in love with him when she died as she was when she conceived me. And that was painful for her.

But the wounds were still fresh. I knew that whenever she looked at me. Her eyes reflected what she felt, and what she felt was heartache. Whoever he was, she saw him in me.

Maybe it was my face. My eyes. Perhaps my mouth reminded her of the man she'd kissed. Maybe it was in my voice. But whatever it was, she couldn't bear it. So she drove me out. She started to ignore me. She talked to me less and less, and saw me as little as possible. She eventually stopped telling me she loved me, and I knew it was because it brought her pain to do so. And that was the worst part. That was when it started, that feeling in the pit of my stomach, like no one was there. No one was watching.

No one cared.

I suppose that wasn't true either. I did, after all, have friends. A friend, that is. Her name was Oriana. And as her name would make it seem, she was born with the very stars in her eyes that I was missing. Constellations of them, galaxies of them. She was granted her hearts desire by everyone, because of every blessed thing she had been given. I envied her more than you could ever know. I blame her, partially, more so than Adrienne, for this invisibility. Oriana was perfect in every way, and next to her I looked like a filthy animal that would be better off euphonized. Because of this, I often thought about what would happen if I disappeared completely. And perhaps it was that, that incredible darkness, that self-loathing that brought them to me- But even those two angles didn't know I was there, not until it was almost too late.

I remember the night Adrienne died. The night the world lost a heartsick soul.

Oriana and I were on our way to a local Café to get a cuppa before the night was over. She, as always, would be ordering peppermint mocha, decaffeinated, with a shot of Irish crème, and I would simply be getting green tea. It was six thirty in the afternoon, on October thirtieth, two thousand and four. And it was snowing.

I suppose that should have been my first clue. Snow in London? Preposterous.

I sat in my room that evening. Oriana had decorated it, with her infinite knowledge of absolutely everything that looked good. The walls were a sickeningly golden shade of pink, wallpapered with gold-leaf and with candle-lit lanterns giving off a sort of golden light- In fact, sitting there in front of a massive mirror, I almost felt sophisticated- If it wasn't for the person staring back at me.

"Jaden?" Adrienne had called. Her voice distantly reminded me of bells- soft, tinkling bells, like the little ones at Christmastime.

My own voice was harsher and deep. "Yes?" Oh. And very, very quiet.

"Oriana's hear," She cracked open the door to my room a tick- The back of which was covered in gold leafing, the front painted white.

"D'you want a few more minutes, love?" She stepped into my room, her tiny, size six Mary-Jane's clicking on the hardwood of my floor. I wished strongly, and silently, that she's stepped onto the carpeting. She smoothed out a few barely-there crinkles in her lavender cocktail dress. I put down the compact in my hand and stared into the mirror in front of me- through the mirror in front of me. My eyes were too big. And much, much too blue. There were hideous, misplaced yellow rings around my pupils, and the gold shadow I'd applied made them all the more prominent. My hair was too curly, much too long and dark, and made my face appear sunken in- or was that just from not eating? I couldn't be sure. The only good thing I observed in the mirror that night was that my skin faintly glowed, and that intensified when I smiled.

However, I avoided doing this, as my teeth were off centre just a touch.

"I suppose not," I breathed to my mother, sighing. "This is as good as it's going to get." I frowned in the mirror. The glow faded completely.

"What's that, love?" She hadn't been paying attention.

"Nothing."

"I don't see why you're getting so dressed up. You're only going for a cuppa." She said, placing her delicate hands on her wide, fleshy hips and pursed her scarlet painted lips into a critical smile.

She was correct, as she occasionally was. I was a bit too dressed up. But, knowing Oriana, I was going to be under-dressed as it was. I grabbed at a concealer stick off of my vanity and tore off the cap. I didn't need it. But somehow, there were circles underneath my eyes I wanted to hide. But what was the point?

I had lines eyes no one was going to look at anyways. And was dressed in deep burgundy, a soft, angora sweater Oriana had bought me off of one of the shops on Fourth Avenue, that was low-cut and showed off, well, nothing that would get noticed. I stood up. My jeans were too wide legged. Too dark. Overpowering. But what else could I do? It was cold outside, and that's exactly where I was headed.

"What's Oriana wearing, Adrienne?"

"Oh," my mother said breathlessly, smiling, "Something short. She's wearing a mint coat I'm sure I saw in that magazine, you know, that one she always is reading…"

I stopped paying attention. I loved Adrienne dearly, but she was shallow. And wrapped up in the life of someone she never gave birth to.

Leaving me alone. Invisible.

I grabbed my white pea coat off of the back of the chair I had been sitting in, threw it around my way too thin shoulders, and pushed passed Adrienne, who was still going on about Oriana's coat from that stupid, god forsaken magazine. I caught a few final words:

"…irl's radiant, Jay, I don't see why you can't be…"

I knew what she was going to say. Exactly what she was going to say. And it made me want to die, then and there.

I met my best friend, my only friend, Oriana at the base of the steep, rickety staircase of my mothers two-level flat.

"Oy Jay! I've missed you, yeah?" She said, flashing a blinding, dazzling white smile at me. She was beautiful. She was perfect. Her hair was swept back into a very becoming and very messy bun at the base, and side, of her perfect, square head. She had apparently gotten her hair professionally done- I spotted crisp, new blonde streaks in her hair that shone like starlight. Her eyes gleamed, emeralds imbedded in dark ringed, dazzling lids, which oddly enough complimented her short, cerulean blue dress more than the dress complimented her eyes. And the coat- Adrienne was right. It was **that** coat.

I tripped clumsily over the last stair.

Oriana caught me, however, being ever-present as omniscient as she was. She was strong for a seventeen year old girl. Strong, and perfect.

"Clumsy little devil, aren't you, Jay?" She set me right, smoothing out my own, less impressive coat. "Are you ready then? It's my treat, mum handed me fifty pounds this morning. Mint, yeah?" Oriana grinned that awful white smile in my direction once again. I smiled weakly at her.

"Yeah. Actually, I wanted to ask you something. I think our-"

She interrupted me.

"Oh, Jay, don't spoil our night with what _you_ think." She waggled her little, glitter-tipped finger in front of her face and crinkled her nose, which I thought made her look like a skinny bulldog. "Besides," she started again, "I've got a much more interesting story…

It happened just a few hours later. Oriana was sitting at the café bar, flirting with the barista, getting him to buy her more hot chocolate, or whatever personal concoction he was making her. Whatever it was, it smelled faintly of cinnamon and strongly of lemons. Verbena, perhaps? I sat at the back of the deserted café, listening to the faint, soothing music playing through ancient speakers on the ceiling.

_Street's like a jungle_

_So call the police_

_Following the herd_

_Down to Greece_

_On Holiday…_

The light was low and faintly red, setting a beautiful glow across the entire place, occupied by only Oriana, the barista, and myself. I sighed into my green tea, wondering, just vaguely, why I was there. I could have been at home. But doing what?

I couldn't think of anything but the potential of sleeping. And maybe, just maybe, not waking up.

"Sorry!"

_Always should be someone you really love…_

I remember the glass shattering in my hands. Tea, scalding hot tea seared the insides of my hand and my legs where it had splashed everywhere. I screamed, or maybe that was just in my head. I can't remember. I felt these little pinpricks after I slammed my arm onto the café table, out of sheer shock from the tea splashing everywhere.

I looked down- There were the remnants of my glass lying everywhere, and I felt them scratching at my arms. I lifted them- No damage.

Someone had ploughed into my table- Apparently, not seeing it or me.

I turned my attention to the person who then had a white, fluffy towel pressed into my hands, who was apologizing again and again in a honey sweet voice. It was a police officer. Off duty, apparently, but one nonetheless. I recognised his light, windswept sandy hair and his piercing blue eyes from the child's park on the corner from our flat- That was his post.

"'Sokay. I'm alright," I said, pressing the towel onto my wiry, burning legs, wincing, because it still hurt like being branded.

"I didn't see you there."

"You and everyone else."

"Hmn?" He said. His attention was on the angel sitting at the bar. Her arm was gently cocked and curling the ginger hair of the Barista, who was leaning close to her, in a total trance, genuinely in another world all together, full of him and her. The officer was staring at Oriana, who had her mouth open in horror, staring at me as if she was seeing me for the first time.

And was disgusted.

The police man turned back to me and blinked a few times, apparently forgetting why he had entered.

"I'm looking for someone named Jackie Harris? I think that was it," He blinked again and pulled a black-lacquered PDA out of his copper-buttoned pockets and checked it.

"Yeah. Er, no. Jaden Harkness. Do you know where I can find her?" His voice started to trail off as his eyes slid from the screen of the pager to Oriana.

Oriana broke in. She stood up, sliding gently off the leather bar stool, and gently licked the bottom of her lower lip, staring at the policeman, pursing her lips afterwards.

"Jaden? Why would you be looking for her?"

I didn't say a word. She pulled up the glittering, sequined hem of her already too-short cerulean dress, and put her hands on her vivacious hips. She definitely loved the attention she was getting. The policeman was entranced, totally enthralled. He couldn't look away- he didn't even blink. His golden blonde eyelashes fluttered, as if he had been hit with some dreadful curse- Except he liked it. It was Oriana's perfect figure, her sensual nature, her garish, sexy glances that he couldn't tear himself from.

"…Her erm… I got a report… Talk to… personal… mother-"

As soon as he said 'mother', my ears perked up, hanging off of every word. What about her? Why the hell would a policeman come looking for me, especially involving my mother? She'd never done anything wrong in her life.

"Adrienne? She's neat," Oriana mentioned casually, biting her lower lip, winking at the officer. "What about?"

"She uh… well we really aren't sure… have to… Jackie…"

Oriana snickered, covering her mirth with her glitter-fingered hands. She spun around and went back to the bar. I watched the officer's blue eyes follow her there, and his breath get shallow. I could almost feel it, his hot breath. He wanted Oriana. He needed her. He was shaking.

"I'm Jaden, actually." I insisted. I pulled on the black coat of the officer.

"I'm looking for Jackie."

"No, you're looking for me." I stood up, more than a little disheartened. I felt a trickle of warm liquid fall from my knees to the floor- the tea was still spilling down my legs.

"Er…" he checked his PDA again. "Yes. Your mother, um, Adrienne Alistair? We're terribly sorry to inform you… She's… deceased."

I stood there, frozen. Oriana's eyes shot up. I caught a flash of them out of the corner of my eye. They were horrified. Almost as horrified as mine. I couldn't breathe. He was joking. He was joking, right? He had to be.

"..What are you talking about? I've only been gone two hours." I whispered in broken disbelief. I felt my voice waiver and crack like the ice coating the windows of the coffee Shoppe. A thousand awful pictures, morbidly realistic, raced through the back parts of my mind- Everything I've ever said wrong to my mother, that I was the cause of her pain. It was my fault. My fault she was dead, wasn't it?

His voice broke my train of thoughts.

"We think it was suicide."

And my heart sank into the floor- into the ground. It was my fault. It was all my fault. And even in that moment, when I could feel hot, acidic tears trickling down my face, and Oriana's strong, flirtatious arms suddenly thrown around my too-skinny shoulders, that Policeman who had broken the news to me was more concerned about Oriana. More concerned about the angel off of the barstool than the girl who had just lost her mother.

I felt myself fade away that night.


	2. BloodyBlueBoxes

Chapter Two

Chapter Two. .**Bloody.Blue.Boxes.**

After two long, heartsick years, nothing whatsoever changed. I went to college, so I suppose that was an improvement upon my constant reprehended and reminding that I was alone in the world. Until that point, I had been living with Oriana and her despicably "hospitable" family, who were frequently keen to inform me of the heartfelt great service they were doing me, and what an awful inconvenience I was to them on an almost daily basis. Eventually, I had to start working, oddly enough at that same Café, in order to "help out" Oriana's family.

Really, Roxanne, Oriana's mother, went on extended holiday with the money I had so trustingly invested into my- and their home. She wasn't even on the return plane back when Oriana and I we due to head to college. Nowhere special, mostly because I had no way of paying for it whatsoever and was in no way equipped to take out a loan from anyone. Oriana could have gone anywhere, but she was much too sympathetic to send an orphan away alone. She went with me to a local university not far from her massive house, meaning we didn't have to pay for room or board.

But college itself was not in the least bit important- especially not important to this story.

Except for the fact that about a week before graduation, Oriana and I started seeing something strange.

On the corner of campus, way off on a section of the quad farthest from the Main Building was a large blue box. Only, it was never in the exact same place.

I thought it was odd. We often asked about it, but no one seemed to have any idea what I or Oriana were talking about, though on a few occasions the lecherous Dean of Education prevaricated that he did to get Oriana alone in his office.

We only had to wait one week to find out the truth.

The Associate's Graduation was the night of my twentieth birthday. Oriana was having a frantic fit- or misfit, rather- as the after party was a sort of formal ball with our entire class. I on the other hand was not in the least bit excited. I had nothing to wear, and even less of a reason to find something. And because Oriana was much too aware of this, she decided to take herself for a bit of shopping.

I felt as if I was being married, the way she hurried me through fabric stores, and on the last day of our Anatomy class, her Finnish made and ridiculously thin cell phone kept ringing- calls from hired tailors, well-reputed seamstresses, and the gay commissioner for the Verandah shoes she had ordered made specifically for her dress. I thought she had hopefully forgotten that I had to wear something as well. She had purchased our tickets, and still, I wasn't planning on going. Until the night before, of course.

"I confirmed your hair appointment in the morning, Jay. It's at ten-thirty, and you wouldn't believe how hard it was too have booked. Bloody hell, it's as if the entire city of London's going to go to that stupid party. I hope you appreciate it, yeah?"

I was swinging my knobbly legs against the feather soft back of the shiny, luxurious black leather recliner in her massive, feng-shui infested den. In my right hand was a tall, glittering crystal glass of expensive red wine, stolen from her father's extensive collection in the gargantuan stone cellar. I'd been sipping on this, my fourth glass, for a few hours and felt more than a tad bit tipsy.

"Oria'a, I don't even have a dress. What's the point," I asked her, slurring slightly, "if no one's going to see me wearing anything?"

"Did you think I was going to let you go naked?" Oriana's olive green eyes sparkled mischievously at me. My heart sank. She dashed up a winding spiral staircase- her house was full of them- at the back of the den and came back down a few spilt seconds later, hurling something deep red and heavy at my head and the wine glass in my hand.

It was lucky she missed. Maybe whatever she threw was too heavy. I set the glass down on an etched glass coffee table and sat up straight.

"Just so you know, it's nearly impossible to find THAT in a size "anorexic". You're so freakishly small. You look emaciated. Eat something before I start making those calorie shakes for you, because I will. That dress is going to fall off of you if you put it on now," She hurried on. There was a mirror on the opposite wall from where I was sitting. I stood and stared into it.

Oriana was all too right. I looked like a starving Ethiopian child. My eyes were bulging, and the dark circles underneath them were disgustingly vibrant.

I felt hot, saline tears run down my cheeks. I tuned to Oriana, who was looking at me with a look on her face asking what ever she was to do with me. I felt hideous.

"Oria'a, what've I done to m'self?" I whispered.

She came over to me, her heels clicking gently against the marble on the floor, and hugged me like she had on the night Adrienne died. I felt like sinking away from her. I felt like dropping off the face of the earth. But her arms were so comforting, I threw mine around her and buried my face in her neck.

For the next few hours, Oriana made about a thousand high-calorie milkshakes and forced them down my throat with a straw, a spoon, and digestive-aids. She was intent on having me gain about ten pounds before the end of the night.

This probably would not be difficult, especially considering that my metabolism was damaged from a lack of food intake for several years. I wouldn't burn off anything once it was in my body.

I remember stepping out of a very elegant, pale silver limousine, courtesy of Oriana's father. The asphalt seemed to shimmer, but then again, so did everything that night. The stars were bright like diamonds, brilliant and shining strong.

Oriana took my hand. Her delicate, golden fingers entwined with my pale, shaking ones and I felt as if for the first time, that the night would be a success. I listened to the sound of my ragged breathing and the sound of my black, glimmering heels clicking across the expanse of the asphalt. My jewelled ears caught the sound of couples whispering, laughter like the tinkling of bells as we ascended up a grand, marble staircase on the campus of the great hall our University had rented for the evening. Right as we walked through the massive, burnt oak doors, Oriana leaned in next to my ear and whispered:

"Happy birthday, Jaden. You deserve to be as beautiful as you look tonight." She saw a glimmer of independence in my eyes. My thoughts of the night being a success, my plans on actually enjoying myself- Her face took an almost instant bitter turn, until-

She kissed me there, oddly, full on the mouth, which was something I pulled away from almost instantly. She didn't let me.

She pressed her lips, soft, round, and scarlet red against my own, pulling me into an embrace that sent a shockwave through me.

Not a good shockwave.

I felt violated.

I felt alone.

Oriana, however, started forward, and turning around to shoot me down like a lame deep, with a condescending smile, let go of my hand and skipped off. I lost her in that crowd.

I felt astringent tears come to my eyes. I was horrified and suddenly felt abandoned, but somehow resolved to enjoy myself.

I smoothed the scarlet of my shimmering ball gown down around my bulging thin hips and stepped up the few final marble stairs before the grand entrance hall.

Immediately I was overwhelmed. There was a heady scent to the massive hall, and blinding chandeliers hung everywhere, shimmering Swarkovski crystal dangling above heads like stars. The room was decorated in gold.

The floor even shimmered with golden glitter, metallic and reflective, giving the entire hall an ethereal glow of health and made me feel as if I'd been transported back to the medieval days where women dressed like this on a regular basis. I felt underdressed, even though I knew the case was entirely the opposite.

I thought for a moment about my hair. Oriana and I had spent a few hours getting it just right. It was long and spectacularly curled, glossy and magnificent. She'd found a tiny, tinkling golden tiara in her basement that she'd lovingly wound into my hair, making me look like a real princess.

My makeup was amazing as well. She'd painted my perfectly, ringing my eyes in black and gold and scarlet, and my lips in the same colours.

I felt good.

Very good.

My heels clicked against the glittering floor elegantly as I drifted through the crowd, completely unaware of those watching me. And there were several. It unusually did not bother me as I searched in vain for Oriana in her pale, icy blue gown that grazed the floor. She was obviously going to stand out. That was, if I could find her.

I continued walking through the masses, smiling at complete strangers, grinning from ear to ear. I felt the time pass as I floated amongst the aristocracy. Gentle music, played by an incredible pianist and a complete orchestra sang to me like nothing I had ever heard before. It was reminiscent of Pachelbel and Bach, sweet and tender and dedicated specifically to partners.

Suddenly, I felt myself swept around and my small, pale hands slip into the stronger hands of someone- a man.

The first thing that struck me about him was his eyes.

They were electric blue and could pierce a heart of stone, had they not been sparkling with the stars laden across the Hall's ceiling. His lashes were long, dark, and heavy, giving him an almost drowsy look, save for his expressive and dark eyebrows that made them more bright.

They also looked just like mine. Except that I had ugly gold rings around my pupils, we had the same eyes.

He also looked about twice my age. Not that old, I presume, perhaps late twenties or early thirties. He was an incredibly attractive man. In only a few seconds he'd greeted me with a blinding white smile, a smile that reminded me of Oriana.

"Do you mind if I dance with you, Miss?" He said flatly, obviously not meaning to ask my permission. I was struck at once with amusement. He flicked his short, feathery dark hair out of his face (Though it wasn't obstructing anything. His face was angelic.) And smiled once again at me.

"Erm, of course." I whispered. I felt highly inadequate. I vaguely gathered that the music intensified as the man swept me from side to side, elegantly; leading me in a dance I had never done in my life. His hands were warm and very strong, guiding me gently and sent vague chills up my spine.

Someone behind us laughed.

I tore my own brilliant blue eyes away from his; immediately feeling myself spiral back to earth. He didn't stop dancing, however. We continued to spin, more and more in tune with each other as the music went on. He spun me and I caught a glance of the person that had laughed.

It was a man, with spiked, caramel brown hair, grinning wildly and slightly crookedly. He was dressed in a very smart pinstriped brown suit with an odd, navy blue tie. Somehow I knew it was tacky- Though my sense of high fashion was anything but warped from years of education, via Oriana.

The man I was dancing with spun me around again before I could find out anything else. I was breathless.

"You alright?" He asked, still smiling at me.

"Uh, yeah," I said, inhaling sharply. I looked around as I was spun again for the laughing man.

When I found him, our eyes met and his smile faded slightly.

His were the oldest, deepest, wisest eyes I had ever seen. He saw into me, not through me, and it made me shiver. It made me nervous. No one had ever looked at me that way. I turned away from him immediately and felt my dark curly fall cascading against my back once again.

The music came to a halt. The man I'd danced with clapped brashly, and the roaring noise echoed throughout the entire hall.

Everyone was clapping, so I joined in lightly, a bit dazed and more than a bit nervous. I felt a hand touch my waist.

"Thank you very much, Miss." He said. Winking. And smiling. "The name's Jack, for future reference. And yours, if I may ask?"

"Erm, Jaden." I said. The pinstripe man was approaching from across the dance floor. He was such a long, long way away, and part of me wanted to turn and run. I didn't understand why. I felt myself shrink into my shell, alone.

"Jaden?" He laughed. "Right." He turned around and called out to pinstripe man, much to my dismay.

"Hey," He said. I only then noticed his American accent. Very Midwestern sounding, and very odd for the area of London we were in. "Doctor, I've got someone for you to meet!"

Pinstripe Man approached with a grin growing around the edges. I saw his ancient brown eyes twinkle a bit, making me a bit jitterier. I looked at Jack nervously and wished with all my heart that Oriana was there, that'd she'd appear out of nowhere to save me.

Oddly enough, she did, in fact. My dear friend, Oriana, came out of the woodwork, just as Pinstripe Man was a mere foot away from me.

I heard Oriana's voice scream behind me.

"Jaden!" She yelled, running at me breathlessly, carting the hem of her skirts high, revealing her excessively long legs. The crowd had begun to disperse and sweep around the hall. Pachelbel's Cannon roared through the amphitheatre. Oriana reached me in a matter of milliseconds, throwing herself at me and her arms around me.

"Erm, 'ello, Oriana?" I asked confused.

"Whose' your friends?"

Of course. That was why she'd approached. She saw me speaking with someone and immediately wanted to get involved. Jack was eyeing her hungrily. It made me wretch a bit inside, knowing that everyone would take her over me.

Pinstripe Man interrupted my self pity.

"Actually, I have no idea who the young lady is, but Jack does, and to my knowledge was about to introduce us. You, Miss," he nodded at Oriana, "Are doing what I like to call interrupting and I would absolutely," He made an exaggerated facial expression while leaning forward a bit, "_love_ it if you would stop."

Oriana looked as if she's just been slapped. Her lower lip quivered momentarily, and then, as if she knew Pinstripe Man would overrule her, shut her mouth; something I had not seen in years. I snickered a bit in my head, not audibly, but the laughter was there. Pinstripe Man smiled at me.

Jack, still staring at my friend, (which made my face flush a bit.), said: "This is Juliet." I looked at him astounded. Juliet? Pinstripe Man raised an eyebrow, looking critically at him.

"Jaden." I whispered. Pinstripe Man looked at me and smiled.

"Great, Jaden. Jaden what?"

"..What?"

"Do you not have a last name?" He said intently. His eyes were impenetrable. _Please, please let me die._ I kept thinking.

"Oh, erm… Harkness…" I whispered. I was stared at blankly. By both Jack and Pinstripe man. _Oh, god no. I'd said something wrong._

"..What?" Jack said flatly. I looked at him and cocked my head slightly.

Pinstripe man snickered.

"What?" I asked, confused. "What?" My inflection rose about an octave.

Pinstripe Man snorted. He ruffled his hair roughly with one hand, and pointed at Jack, laughing.

"Harkness." Jack said, apparently meaning it in a questioning manner. This, however, did not come across.

"Erm, yes? That's me." Pinstripe Man laughed even harder. I saw a glimmer of tears come to his eyes. Oriana was obviously annoyed- she crossed her arms and stared blankly at her nails, sucking on her teeth as every irritated rich girl does.

"Uh," Jack laughed nervously, staring at Pinstripe Man. "Weird."

Pinstripe man interrupted him. "Weird? It's brilliant! I thought so! I definitely thought so! Well, I knew so, but I know everything so that isn't surprising..." He said, through another fir of laughter.

"That's a bit pretentious," Oriana said coldly, still staring at her nails.

Jack shot her a grin. "But true. I'm used to it by now. He's impossible to reason with. I've never been able to convince him he isn't omnipotent as he inherently believes." He looked at Pinstripe Man, critically out of the corner of his eyes.

"Doctor, what exactly are you insinuating?" He said, crossing his arms, bewildered, quite possibly struck by the nerve of the well-dressed gentleman. The Pinstriped Doctor Man, apparently, sucked in breath long enough to contain his laughter.

"So tell me, Jaden Harkness, who is your father?"

I felt my face fall. I bit the corner of my lip gently with my eye-teeth. Excessively long eye-teeth. Oriana, finally catching onto my discomfort and obvious distress, spoke up for me.

"She has no idea, and what business of it is yours, Doctor?" She snapped. "You come in here, bashing about, acting like you're some ridiculous omnipotent being-"

He cut her off, laughing.

" I know who her father is."

"I'm so sure." Oriana remarked curtly, glaring at him in a snide manner, turning her nose to the ceiling, curling her lip. "I don't even know that. I've know this girl since she was a baby. For you to claim you do is not only an insult to me-"

"You know, you really aught to think about shutting up.."

I glared at him. He was obviously joking. He was a liar. Obviously. All men were.

"Jaden, what's your mother's name?" said the Doctor. This time, his voice was gentle- soothing.

I stared at my feet. Oriana grabbed my hand and squeezed. It felt sarcastic.

"…Adrienne. Adrienne Alistair," I whispered flatly to my chest.

Jack spoke up. "Ohhh no. Sorry, Doctor, I was only ever with one Adrienne, and she was blonde. This girl isn't blonde," he said. He pulled his posture up, looking at the Doctor with a you're-obviously-wrong-for-once-and-I-know-it smirk. My heart sank. I knew what The Doctor was about to say. I knew in my heart that he was wrong.

But could I be sure?

"…My mother was blonde," I said.

Jack's posture suddenly appeared slouchy. He stared at me in horror.

"What?."

And The Doctor, all knowing as I now believed him to be, whispered in a rough voice, in as much disbelief as I was,

"Ohh yes."

"Jaden Harkness, meet your father. Captain Jack," he said, apparently pausing for effect, "Harkness. Congratulations Jack," he said brightly, "You're a dad."

He stared at me and I stared back. Oriana did a severely critical double take.

"Do you take her for a bloody _idiot?"_

We looked alike.

I looked just like my dad.

And he was standing there in front of me.

"..I have to go."

Oriana took my shaking, shivering hand and took me, dazed and confused, with her. We ran out of that ball, as quick as my trembling legs would allow. And while we did, a million questions raced through my mind. He wasn't old enough to be my dad. He was _gorgeous_. I was not. He never knew about me? Where had he been all my life? Why had my mum never told me? Why did he show up tonight? Why, why on _earth_ had I found him attractive? That was disgusting. Disgusting on so many levels, and I couldn't fathom the fact that suddenly I found myself inside of a limousine, with my head in Oriana's lap. She was stroking my head, tugging on my hair. My tears distracted me from the fact that I felt pinprick after pinprick of her pulling them out, one by one.


	3. SolidEmptySpace

Chapter Three:

Chapter Three:** .Solid.Empty.Space.**

Oriana took me home that night in an absolutely distraught-hung-over mess. I was, to say the least, in absolutely dreadful shape. I was shocked, and not to anyone's surprise, and in utter disbelief.

There was, by no law of nature, any possible, any conceivable way that that man was my father.

And yet, why did we look so much alike?

It did fit together. Not only in the way we had looked, but our last names. I had never heard of another soul with the last name of Harkness and it had never struck me as odd until now, until this very moment.

Oriana walked me up the massive, elegant spiral staircase of her home to the upper levels of the house. To my room, the room I had been renting from Oriana's parents.

Of course, she wouldn't send me to bed after that order completely sober. She'd given me shot after shot in the limousine, and I knew I was on the verge of passing out. When I spoke it was unintelligible, when I thought it was a mockery of thought. I was exhausted, and was developing a migraine that could debilitate a Spartan Warrior with the greatest of ease.

I barely noticed as Oriana, the great faux-friend as she was, stripped me of my magnificent crimson dress- and with it, all the splendour I had so briefly succumbed to, and every ounce of dignity I had left. She left my paper-thin and pale figure, standing, shivering in the heat of her home, practically naked and completely alone. I caught the red, lacy camisole she threw at me from one of the vanities in the room, and slipped it over my head, sobbing just a bit through gnashed teeth and eyes screwed shut, against my drunken will.

Oriana led me to my bed, whispering gently reassuring words that somehow involved "moronic," "bastard," and "whiney little bitch." It was a massive, four poster queen mattress stuffed with the softest goose down, complete with sky-blue satin sheets and a comforter fit for a princess. I crawled into the bed, and the very moment my head hit my pillow, I was instantly asleep.

I found myself standing on the rooftops that night.

The wind was insanely cold, and howling in my ears, cutting into my skin in bitter defiance of my very life. My crystalline blue eyes were watering from the chill, from the frozen night air, and I felt tiny crystals forming from the tears in my wet, dark lashes. They sparkled. I could see every star above my head, every single star in the universe, glittering like diamonds hanging above my head like the chandeliers at the ball. It was overpowering and wonderful, and I felt that if I simply let go- let myself fade into darkness, I could fly among them forever- if only I stopped breathing. The stars shimmered, calling my name in gentle torrents of sadness and avarice, close enough to graze with my fingertips. I reached out, arms bare and frozen to the bone, to grasp weakly at the shining diamonds in the sky; only to feel my footing on the ledge of the rood slip;

And I fell fast, fell through the cold, night air that felt like breaking glass, fell through the dark, glittering sky, until;

I woke up.

I laid upon that insanely comfortable mattress, drowsy, listening to the sharp, _pat, pat, pat,_ samba being beat out by my speeding heart. I choked on my breath deep in my throat as if I had been on the verge of drowning. I felt an uneasy and difficult pain resting deep in my chest, making my breath laboured and ragged. The continuous _pat, pat_ became irregular. Blood pulsed in my ear, but in a different beat- one much quicker paced than the sound I was hearing.

It took me a moment, or rather, several, to notice the rocks.

Rocks being thrown at my window. Every couple of seconds.

And, naturally, and obviously, I was very, very confused. These rocks, however, explained the sound that I had initially believed to be the still-beating of my heart.

My head had not quite cleared up from the vodka in my system, but I did know that the rocks kept coming at my window. One after another, making a cracking noise that made me almost hope the window would shatter.

Oriana, also, was lying, passed out on the floor. Apparently, she had not made it the sixty or so feet to her own bedroom.

As I came to, I made my way across the huge expanse of my bed, crawling slowly, dazed, to the edge of the bed and to the floor-length window.

I pushed aside massive, indigo curtains that felt as thick as fog in November, and stared outside, onto the roof in a drunken stupor.

Out there, on the slick, black tiling, sat as pleasantly as possible, Jack and the Doctor, both gingerly tossing pebbles at my window.

Apparently they had been doing this for awhile. There was a nice collection of multicoloured stones in different places around the seams in the tiles.

I stared blankly for more than a few minutes. Jack, (getting wetter by the moment, as it was then I noticed the steady rain) curled his lip and raised a dark eyebrow, gesturing to his confusion as to why I was not opening the window.

For some reason, I still believed myself to be sleeping. I turned around and wandered back to my bed, wondering vaguely about what they were doing outside.

The rocks continued to hit my window, one after another, until the ceased a few moments later.

I remember thinking, _Finally, bloody hell, _and sinking deeply onto the bed once again, when a high-pitched buzzing sound interrupted my thick, clouded thoughts.

"Jaden?" Jack said cautiously as he _apparently _began climbing in through the window.

It took a few more moments to realize that the men were inside my room. It seemed awkward- Hadn't the window been locked? There was a latch. I remembered, I _surely_ remembered locking it. I sat up in a daze, unable to comprehend the conversation that was being attempted by my apparent father.

Oriana, in her sleep, twitched a bit and turned over, onto her stomach.

I glanced, completely stupefied, back to the window and found the insanely beautiful blue eyes of my father, _my father, _Jack staring into mine room from across the darkness. I doubled over backwards back into a sitting position, shocked and horrified. My drunkenness was obviously going to impair my better judgement. Oriana snored loudly, ridiculously loudly in the centre of the room. I whimpered as Jack and the Pinstriped Doctor came hopping nonchalantly into my room.

"…Whaarya_doin?!"_ I slur-screamed at him. I didn't want Oriana to wake up to this, though I couldn't hear myself very well. She'd scream something ridiculous, like _rape!_ I'd already dealt with the police when we were teenagers- Not a pleasant experience whatsoever.

"Just checking up on you," The Doctor said loudly. He stood up, straight, his hands buried deep in the pockets of a rather expensive looking tan trench coat he had on. He stood on the tips of his toes, and then back down again. He did this a few times, nodding his head, scanning my room with his benevolent eyes that both drew me in and made me increasingly nervous. His eyes swooped around, mildly hawk like, at my ruffled bed, and my lifestyle in general; he seemed to question much of it, but in my heady state I barely recognized that fact. He swallowed and nodded slightly. I saw his eyes shot over to me in my too-tight lace nightdress, that was much to short and made me look absolutely disgusting. I shrank back into my shell in a stupor, and back onto the bed.

He looked me in the eyes, deeply, in a searching, questioning way. He parted his lips just a bit, staring into my glassy eyes with an almost knowing look in them, making me start to tic.

Finally he broke eye contact. He glanced over at Oriana, who was snoring still, and sounded much like a wounded elephant. Her lavender skivvies were in full view, barely hanging off of her, and her mouth hung open upon a pillow.

He sniffed a bit, trying a bit to contain mirth. She had been drooling all over her pillow.

"Lovely." He said in a feathering voice, frowning with his eyebrows rising, in quite a comical expression.

Brightly, he shrugged.

I felt disturbingly naked and exposed. He stepped over to me, extending his hand.

"We were never properly introduced. I'm The Doctor, Jaden, just the Doctor, and no," he said, seeing my drunk but questioning eyes, "I'm not leaving anything out."

"Oherm… Name'sa.. Jad'n…" I slurred our. I felt extraordinarily sleepy.

"See, there's this funny little thing, Jaden," He went on, pulling what looked like a thin, ceramic flashlight out of his lapel. He bit the corner of his lip, and flicked the flashlight on. It gave out a kind of ethereal blue light, and a sonic sort of noise that reminded me of the CAT scans in hospitals- the same buzzing sound I had heard earlier.

"When Jack and I, just so happened to pass by earth, the TARDIS," He pointed the flashlight at my, right into my gold-ringed, too-blue eyes. "That's my ship, by the by. Time And Relative Dimension In Space." He paused, staring at the buzzing flashlight. My ehad was foggy- The light made the Doctor seem to glow.

"It alerted Jack and I to something strange. Not just a bit strange, no," he moved the light to my ear, and then to my mouth. I was horrified and barely paying attention.

"But something _I've _only seen a few times in my life, and let's face it, I'm ancient as they come." He moved the light down my body and at that point, I recoiled, with absolutely no idea of what he was doing to me. What was that thing? It made god awful noise, and the light was terrible unflattering.

"This is called a Sonic Screwdriver, by the way, I'm just doing a simple scan, trust me it's nothing bad." He paused, staring at the apparent screwdriver. "Well. I say nothing bad…"

"Well." He said again, returning the screwdriver to his lapel. "Found it! We've got ourselves a girl, here," he paused, nodded at me. "Who doesn't apparently," he said, I suppose he meant it to be reassuring. "Exist."

I stared at him, confused.

"Who'th _hell_'ryou?!" I demanded, angrily. Not only did I have no idea what was going on, but this man had a sonic screwdriver and was telling me that I didn't exist?

He was obviously demented.

He needed professional help. Immediately.

"Well, yes, I suppose nonexistent isn't exactly the right word… But she didn't register on the TARDIS's radar. It picked up a blank spot. Something that exists completely out of space and time." He was speaking to Jack, I assumed.

Jack barked. "We found something that doesn't exist." He said critically.

"What else are we going to do today, Doctor, meet the president of Raxicoricofallapitorious?"

The Doctor gave him a strange look.

"D'you actually want to meet it?"

"…No."

"Thought not."

"So uh," Jack said absent minded, glancing back at me. My eyes slid out of focus. Embarrassing.

"She doesn't exist? Really?"

"Exactly.… I just don't know why. Yet at least… She's obviously here," The Doctor grabbed at me, and immediately and in a reflex, I smacked his hand away, obviously missing by a few inches. "And quite angry at us, apparently."

"Justell'm why you're here, _Doctrrr,"_ I said sarcastically. My language got more and more unintelligible as time went on.

"Fat lot of good you've done on this one, Jack, she's got a mouth on her." He whispered to his companion.

"Oy! Don't _talk _'bout'me'sif I'm not'ven 'ere!"

"But that's just it, isn't it? I've got the best technology in the universe, and I would know, I made this stuff," he said, getting out his screwdriver again and shaking it at me, "And it's telling me _you don't exist._ Absolutely nothing," he said, flicking open the screwdriver, "exists where you are sitting right now. Nothing. No space, no time, no matter. No light, no darkness, no heat or humanity. You are absolutely intangible and against every scientific and mathematical law I've come in contact with, and because of that, I need to take you on a little trip."

"I've no _idea whathe_ bloody'ell youtalkin'bout." Maybe it was the Vodka. Maybe it was my anger at my so-called father appearing out of nowhere. Maybe, just maybe it was that finally, after twenty years, someone had seen me, someone had noticed me and was suddenly telling me I didn't exist, but I don't know.

For the first time in my life I felt all my anger with my life rise to the surface, all my frustration at being absolutely invisible, being totally unspecialized in everything, my outright dislike of the way Oriana treated me, it was all coming to the surface. Maybe it was the fact that my mother had kept this from me for all those years, or the fact that even now I thought my father was handsome and I was not, or the fact that no matter what I did I was never good enough. But I stood up for myself, in that one, single moment.

"Naaaah."

"What?"

"I sai'naah."

"No isn't an option, Jaden, this is more important that you could ever know. This is beyond you. This is the Universe trying to say something by allowing you to think yourself out of existence, and I'm going to find out why. I'm not going to let this go unsolved. D'you have any idea how difficult it is, looking for something that isn't there, something that doesn't exist, and we just happen to find it, the exact blank space the TARDIS couldn't identify, that one tiny spec, that hole in the universe, the one that's fading away? We've been tracking it for ages, and we've finally fount it. We've finally found you, Jaden Harkness, and _that_ is the reason we are here tonight."

I didn't have a choice. Jack smiled knowingly at me, and The Doctor stared at me with his warm, ancient eyes, almost glaring.

I really didn't have another option but to go with them.

"But, first, Jaden," He said, approaching the bed. His voice was calmer, warmer, and much more soothing. "If there's anything you don't want me to see… just picture a door," he took his large, warm hands and curled his fingers together, extending his fore and middle fingers, and finally his thumb. He placed them on my temples gently. "and shut it."

Everything started flashing before my eyes. My past. My mother, Adrienne, and all my life's story. All to the beat of two hearts, none of which had a pulse that was my own.

Then it all snapped back- As the tug at the back of my mind faded, The Doctor's ancient face, as young as life itself, swam into view through the astringent tears stinging at my eyes and down my face. He opened his warm eyes, dark-lashed, in disbelief and his fingers fell from my temples in one swift motion.

He stood there, right in front of me, staring right at me- right into me. I was so afraid. Afraid of what he'd seen, and more afraid of what I'd remembered. His eyes burned- Burned like I was being branded by the searing heat of the sun, forever, that dire glance never fading from his eyes. I felt the tears fall to the ground. It was emptiness inside of me at that moment. Vulnerability I had never felt. A wall, broken, the one I had for so long built up to protect myself, and yet it had never done the job.

Through the wall, through the cement and the glass and the shame, his voice cracked through- The Doctor's voice.

"…Right. Well. Interesting."

My eyes shot up to meet his. The burning expression intensified. Jack moved behind him, his form swimming into my drowned eyes. He touched my face.

"Jaden? Are you alright?" He asked me, though I barely heard him.

Nothing was registering in my head; I felt myself go limp, and the room started to spin just enough to make me fall- Fall right onto my bed, while everything around me turned black-

Through that, I heard:

"Jaden, I need you to come with me for a moment, is that alright?"

The last thing to go dark was the fire in the eyes of The Doctor.

My Doctor.


End file.
